Of Men, Elves and Snowballs
by Evergreene
Summary: A certain ranger thinks it unfair that elves can walk on snow.
1. Of Men, Elves and Snowballs

**Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, no, of course not. (hurriedly puts away a Legolas figure) **

**Summary: As the fellowship scale Caradhras, a certain ranger thinks it unfair that elves can walk on snow.**

**Hi all! This plot bunny just struck me one day (really hard too) and refused to leave me alone until I had put it on paper, or on computer screen, whatever. Enjoy!**

**Of Men, Elves and Snowballs**

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A lone bird soared over the jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains, its cry echoing over the vast distances far below. As the dark shadow of Caradhras rose high in front of it, the bird climbed on invisible currents of air until it had risen far above the great mountain. From its great height, it saw scattered outcrops of a greying rock standing harshly against white slopes, yet rather than marring the mountain's frozen elegance, they added to it, the very imperfection of the scene highlighting its crystal beauty. As the bird looked down, it saw nine ink-dot figures making their way slowly up the side of the mountain. For a brief moment it puzzled over the sight of other creatures in this place where so few travellers dared trespass. Yet the bird quickly dismissed the figures from its mind and continued the journey into the newly risen sun, leaving the nine companions to struggle alone through the deep snow which hampered their path.

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Thud.

Legolas reached up to brush the snow off of his shoulder, muttering a few choice curses as he did so. This latest projectile had only missed his quiver by a bare inch, and he was determined that if even a single flake so much as touched his newly fletched arrows, he would be only to happy to remove the throwing arm of the one responsible.

Thud.

Legolas whipped round to face the direction from which the offending snowball had come, sharp eyes seeking the perpetrator, whether it be Man, Hobbit, Dwarf or Istari. However, none of his companions were looking his way, each seemingly set upon the arduous task of ascending the heights of Caradhras. As an icy trickle of melting snow crawled its way down his back, Legolas' gaze travelled slowly over the eight figures, both short and tall, searching for any indication of guilt.

Gandalf was just behind him, near the front of the party, his heavy robe gathered close about him in an effort to retain as much warmth as possible on this brilliantly cold morning. Head bent against the biting winds which tore over the mountain, his left hand clutched the brim of his hat, keeping it firm on his head. With his other hand he used his wizard's staff to break a path through the snow for the rest of the fellowship. Yet, unless he had employed some of his strange brand of magic, with both hands occupied, Legolas doubted that he could possibly have been responsible for the snowballs.

Boromir followed the wizard, round shield slung over his shoulder as he forged his own path through the snow. Legolas had come to like the man from Gondor. Although the friendship between the two had been tentative at first, it had deepened swiftly, largely due to the fondness the man displayed towards the hobbits, something which had quickly earned both the elf's friendship and respect. Boromir often offered to train the four hobbits in swordplay, teaching them skills which Legolas knew he hoped for them never to have to use. He decided that the Man was not responsible for the freezing water now at the small of his back, for the man's thoughts seemed directed elsewhere as he marched onwards, occasional glancing towards the rear of the party.

Boromir was trailed by the two young hobbits, Merry and Pippin. Usually, they would be only too eager to engage in a snowfall fight. Indeed, Legolas had been surprised to find that all four hobbits had a strong arm and a good aim. At that moment however, they seemed to be engaged in one of their many squabbles, most of which seemed to concern food.

Behind the two hobbit cousins marched the dwarf. Legolas frowned. He did not know the dwarf very well as yet, nor did he have any desire to improve upon the situation in the future. What words the two had exchanged had been insults. As he considered the matter however, Legolas decided that the dwarf was not responsible. Whilst the son of Gloin would not hesitate to engage in any activity which would anger him, if he was to hurl anything in the elf's direction, it was far more likely to be one of his axes.

Legolas' frown deepened as his gaze shifted to the next member of the small party. The ringbearer looked pale and worn, more so than the other hobbits. But then, thought the elf, that was hardly surprising. Whilst Frodo had shown that he was not above causing a bit of mischief, particularly between the other hobbits, as the journey had worn on he had drawn closer in on himself, even going so far as to refuse even Sam's company at times. No, Frodo did not look as though he could spare the energy to snowball an innocent elf, even if he had wanted to.

Sam, leading Bill, followed close behind Frodo, and Legolas found a smile replacing the frown on his face as he considered the hobbit gardener. It was a rare occasion when Sam left Frodo's side, and if he did, it was always for as short a time as possible. The gardener had also taken on full care of the pack pony. Between Frodo and Bill, Legolas was surprised that the hobbit had anytime to see to his own needs. He was sure that Sam would never dare to snowball him. Even now, having spent weeks in close company with one of the firstborn, the hobbit remained slightly nervous about approaching him. However, Legolas had shared many a conversation with the gentle, yet fiercely protective, hobbit and he hoped that these last traces of nervousness would quickly disappear.

Last came the ranger. Legolas' blue eyes narrowed suspiciously as he watched the heir to the throne of Gondor, who was studying his feet intently as they trudged a path through the deep snow. The Man would certainly not hesitate to engage in a bit of mischief if there were no sign of danger, particularly if said mischief concerned his closest friend. Occasionally Aragorn glanced up, looking over the small company to assure himself of the fellowship's safety. However, thought Legolas, it was far more likely that he did so in order to observe the effect his little game was having.

Slowly, Legolas turned back around and continued to make his way light-footed over the white carpet beneath him. He walked in peace for some minutes and began to relax, as the ranger had apparently found better uses for his time.

Thud.

"Aragorn!"

The shout from the usually composed prince of Mirkwood halted the fellowship in their steps and each of them looked around, fearing that the elf's sharp eyes had found some danger invisible to those of mortals. Yet Legolas did not seem concerned for the safety of the company. Rather, he was making a beeline over the snow towards the ranger, a furious look upon his face. Aragorn, however, stood his ground as he watched the elf approach, a satisfied glint in his silver-grey eyes.

Arriving by the ranger's side, Legolas reached forward and grasped a handful of the man's clothes, jerking his friend towards him until they were face to face. His voice had lowered to a lethal tone. "By the Valar, Aragorn," he hissed, "if you do that one more time-"

"Do what, _mellon nin_?" the ranger asked innocently. At his side, his right hand unobtrusively released the ball of compressed snow held within its grasp.

"You are well aware of what I speak, _mellon nin,_" the elf replied, his latter words laced with sarcasm. "And know this, Human, if such a thing occurs again, I swear upon the light of Earendil itself that there will soon be an arrow embedded in the one responsible!" Having finished his vehement avowal, the elf shoved the man away from him, the force of the push causing the ranger to stagger back a few steps, and stalked back to his place at the head of the company, muttering to himself about the immaturity of the Second-born.

Frodo caught Sam's eye and they exchanged grins, happily recognising another of the disputes which erupted frequently between the two friends. Each seemed to enjoy baiting the other, and, when and only when assured of the fellowship's safety, their time was frequently spent goading, provoking and generally annoying the other. As the fellowship resumed its journey up the mountain, Frodo kept a close eye on both elf and ranger, feeling sure that there was more to come. After some minutes he saw Strider cast a fleeting glance at the elf, then bend down only to swiftly straighten again with his right hand clenched tightly by his side. He nudged Sam, alerting him to the ranger's actions, and the two waited eagerly for whatever would happen next.

Thud.

In the blink of an eye, Legolas whirled round, drew an arrow and fitted it to his bow, all in one swift motion. Yet before he could carry out his threat however, the puzzled voice of Merry rang out over the snow-covered slopes.

"What _are_ you doing, Pippin?"

The other members of the party, man and elf included, turned to look at the youngest member of their fellowship. Pippin had his arms stretched wide to help keep himself upright as he stuck one foot out, holding it so that it rested gingerly on the surface of the snow, before he carefully lowered it onto the white carpet, where it immediately sank with a loud crunch. Abruptly realising that he had an audience, Pippin quickly lowered his arms, trying, but failing, to look innocent.

"Nothing," he answered quickly. "I wasn't doing anything," he added defensively, glaring at Merry, who was looking at his cousin perplexedly, dark eyebrows furrowed beneath his curling hair.

"Yes you were," Merry replied, determined to discover what his cousin had been up to. "What were you trying to do?"

The hobbit in question looked around. His companions had all come to a halt by this time, enjoying the rest from the exacting climb and clearly quite prepared to wait where they were until the issue had been resolved. Legolas had lowered his bow, much to a certain ranger's relief, and stood watching the cousins bemusedly. A blush crept up Pippin's cheeks and he gestured abruptly to the Mirkwood elf.

"I was just trying to do what he was doing," Pippin muttered, and the company's eyes all swung towards the archer, who looked mystified at the hobbit's words.

"I did not realise I was doing anything, myself," said Legolas with a light shrug of his shoulders, faintly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the entire fellowship.

Merry stared at his friend, then back at the elf, inspecting each of them carefully. Suddenly, a grin formed on his face and he smirked at his cousin gleefully. "I know what you were doing," he stated, and his grin widened. "You were trying to walk on snow, like Legolas does!"

The fellowship, minus an embarrassed hobbit, turned to look at the blonde archer, who was indeed standing on top of the fragile snow, his lightly booted feet having left barely an imprint of a trail behind him. Gandalf shook his head and turned back to his path, muttering about foolish hobbits, and Aragorn and Boromir exchanged grins, although the latter's forehead had creased slightly as he looked at the prince of Mirkwood. Gimli, who always seemed to enjoy the antics of the only members of the fellowship shorter than he, was chuckling quietly to himself.

Sam stared wide-eyed at this new example of the magic of the elves. "How is it that you can do that, Mister Legolas?" he ventured to ask. "Walk on snow, I mean."

The elf shrugged. "It is something which all of the firstborn are able to do," he replied easily, but to Sam's disappointment, he delved no deeper into the matter.

Gimli, who had been unusually silent until then, snorted into his beard, muttering something under his breath and Legolas swung around swiftly to face the blockier being.

"I beg your pardon, Master Dwarf?" he questioned dangerously.

"I said, _Master Elf_, that such a talent must be of great worth when hoarding treasure in the caves of that dark wood you call home."

Legolas' eyes hardened as he glared at the dwarf icily. "It is no wonder that your race is unable to accomplish such a feat as walking on snow with all the metal you insist on wearing upon your heads," he shot back.

"The dwarves wear these helmets because our heads have something in them which is worth protecting!" retorted the dwarf, bristling angrily.

"Gentlemen, please. We must be moving on." Aragorn broke into the debate, unwilling to allow the dispute to develop into a full-blown war, as was so often the case when the two argued.

Legolas looked up at Aragorn innocently. "My apologies, Estel, it was not my intent to hold up the fellowship. I simply wished to point out that some, inferior, races, the Dwarves for example, are too much like the rock they are so obsessed with, to be able to do that which the Elves accomplish with ease."

Before the dwarf had a chance to retort, the elf turned and walked swiftly away over the snow, again leaving no trace that he had passed.

Sam, still puzzled, looked to the ranger, who had proven to be a great source of knowledge about the ways of the fair race amongst whom he had been raised. "Strider? Do you know?"

The man shook his head regretfully. "Nay, Sam, I do not. Elves are nimble creatures, they weigh very little, and are part of Middle-Earth as Men could never be. Yet I cannot tell you any more than that of this particular mystery of the firstborn, for I do not know the answer myself." Shrugging his pack into a better position upon his back, the ranger began to work his way up the mountain once more, clapping a snow-covered palm on the disappointed gardener's shoulder as he passed.

As the group continued on their way, Legolas saw that Pippin's cheeks were still flushed a bright red and he moved to the hobbit's side. "Do not be discomfited," said the elf gently. "You are not the first to try to imitate the ways of the elves." His next words were raised for all of the fellowship to hear. "Indeed, there are others in this very company who have tried to walk on snow. Isn't that so, Aragorn?"

"Aye," replied the ranger, but did not say anything more.

The smile upon Legolas' face became mischievous at the man's abrupt answer and he called out merrily to the rest of the fellowship. "Even our ranger here has been known to attempt such a thing!" This revelation had the desired effect of distracting Pippin, who glanced over at the ranger curiously.

"You tried to walk on snow too, Strider?" he asked, feeling slightly less embarrassed as he pictured the grim long-legged man attempting to tiptoe across a snowy field. The rest of the fellowship was looking at the ranger too, Boromir with a broad smile on his face.

The ranger glared over at the smiling elf before turning resignedly to the young hobbit. "Yes, Pippin, I did, and it is something which the elf here" -he aimed a cuff at the back of the elf's head- "will never let me forget, I am sure."

"You must admit, Aragorn, it was rather humorous," commented Legolas.

"I was only a child at the time!" the ranger protested, and then frowned, remembering. "It also did not help that my kind and trustworthy brothers told me that it was only a matter of practice."

His elven friend dissolved into peals of laughter, which halted abruptly as yet another clod of snow pelted into the back of his head, coating his blonde hair with clumps of white ice.

"Must you do that?" Legolas asked resignedly, nimble fingers seeking to brush the snow off, and the ranger nodded happily.

"I thought it only fair."

The elf's eyebrows rose at this seemingly absurd statement. "You believe it fair to constantly throw snowballs at me, your closest, oldest and most loyal friend?" he inquired disbelievingly.

Again the ranger nodded. "Aye, I do believe it so. You find it so easy to traverse this mountain compared to us mortals-"

"Indeed?" said the elf, eyebrows raised even higher. Sam noticed that he had an arrow notched and was stroking it's fletching repeatedly.

"Indeed," replied the ranger. "You are able to walk over the snow, thus you do not have to force your way through it, nor you do not feel the cold as we do."

"I still see no reason to throw snowballs at me," muttered the elf.

"I merely thought that you should be made to experience some of the discomfits which we are subject to," said the ranger nonchalantly.

Legolas made a show of looking around at the other members of the fellowship. "I see no one else being bombarded with snowballs," he said.

"Then clearly you are not observant enough," replied the ranger, and, before the elf could say another word, he launched another snowball, yet this one was not aimed at Legolas. Instead, it impacted solidly with the back of a certain dwarf's head.

The prince of Mirkwood stared at said dwarf's helmet, which had protected him from the worst of the impact. "It seems that those things are of some use after all," he remarked to himself, but suddenly found himself confronted with an outraged dwarf.

"You…you…ELF!" Gimli roared. "What was that for?"

The elf looked rather affronted at this accusation. "You are mistaken, Master Gimli," he protested, hands raised before him in offended innocence. "It was not I who threw that snowball."

It was the dwarf's turn to look disbelieving. "And I suppose that snowball just hit me of its own accord then," he demanded angrily, trying in vain to reach around to the back of his head to brush away the snow gathered there.

"Do not be a fool," replied the elf coldly, "however much it becomes you. Aragorn is the one responsible for the snow which now covers you."

Gimli turned to look at the ranger, who had by this time started back up the mountain and looked up innocently at the sound of one of his many names. Gimli turned back to the elf.

"Aragorn!" he barked. "Aragorn! What reason would he have to hurl a snowball at me?"

"Many come to mind, but it is best that you ask him that yourself," Legolas replied coolly, and turned to continue on his way, but the dwarf, clutching one of his axes, moved to bar the elf's path.

"Oh no, you don't!" he bellowed. "I'm not letting you get away that easily. It's just like an elf, trying to avoid the consequences of your actions. Well, this is one dwarf who won't allow it!"

Legolas drew his knives, blue eyes fixed on his opponent.

Sam, petrified that the two were about to attack one another, stumbled through the deep snow until he had reached Strider, who was watching the action from a little further up the slope, an amused look on his face.

"Mr Strider, sir," he gasped. "Aren't you going to do something?"

The ranger looked down at Sam with a smirk. "I thought I would let them fight this one out for themselves," he replied. "For you know what happened last time I intervened." (1)

"Strider!" Sam was appalled at this casual dismissal of what to him seemed a serious problem. "Worry not, Sam," the ranger reassured him, "I am sure that they will not seriously harm one other."

"Are you certain of that?" a voice asked, and both Man and hobbit turned to see that Boromir had joined them unnoticed, and was also watching the two figures who were now circling each other; the dwarf stumbling occasionally as he tripped in the deep snow, the elf walking as lightly as ever on top of it. "This seems more serious than their usual disputes."

By this time another member of the fellowship had joined their small group.

"What is happening here," Gandalf grumbled, pulling his robe closer around him. "What are those two fools doing?"

"Strider threw a snowball at Gimli, and Gimli thought Legolas did it, so he attacked Legolas even though it was really Strider who had thrown the snowball," piped up Pippin, who had also joined the ever-increasing group.

The wizard's bushy eyebrows drew close together as he worked through the hobbit's garbled speech, then he turned to the ranger who was releasing a regretful sigh, knowing that he had been found out. "Really, Aragorn," the wizard grumbled, "I thought better of you than to encourage those two." But the corners of his mouth twitched as he continued to watch both elf and dwarf, who were now standing face to chest still trading verbal blows, but he too made no move to separate them. The four hobbits stared at one another, amazed that neither of the Men, nor the wizard, was intervening in what seemed about to develop into a fight to the death.

Frodo turned to the ranger and looked up at him, brown curls flapping wildly in the racing wind. "Strider, Legolas may really get injured," he said appealingly, but the Man shook his head.

"Nay, he can look after himself. If he can survive my brothers, he can survive Gimli."

"Please," Frodo beseeched, and Aragorn, looking down into the hobbit's big, morning-blue eyes, sighed heavily.

"Very well," he muttered reluctantly, and proceeded to make his way with slow steps to where the two opponents were standing with weapons raised.

"Legolas, Gimli, leave it be," he said firmly as he moved in-between them. "It is not worth this, no matter who threw the snowball."

"It was you, Aragorn!" Legolas declared angrily. "And I will not leave this fight until the Dwarf admits it!"

"I will never!" roared Gimli. "This elf threw a snowball at me and I mean to have the retribution I deserve!"

"Gentlemen-" the ranger began again, but was forced to shift hurriedly out of the way as two blades met with a glint of steel as dark shadows danced over the crystal snow.

Rolling his eyes, Aragorn returned to the rest of the fellowship. "Well, I tried," he said calmly, and, with a shrug of his shoulders, he settled down to watch. The hobbits and Boromir stared at him.

"Oh, for goodness sake," grumped Gandalf. Swiftly making his way across the snow to the two combatants, he pushed himself firmly between them with his staff raised angrily. "Stop that," he said loudly, aiming a blow at the prince of Mirkwood's kneecaps and Legolas skipped out of the way hurriedly. "You too, Master Dwarf," he continued, as the dwarf let out a loud guffaw of laughter. "We must move on and I'll have no more of this fooling about!" With an angry huff, he tugged his cloak around himself and turned his back on the stunned beings, returning to his place at the head of the party.

The son of Gloin and the prince of Mirkwood glared at each other, anger still lighting their eyes, then abruptly, each turned and stalked away, Gimli stomping through the snow until he was just behind the wizard and Legolas settling himself just behind Sam, having given the ranger who walked at the back of the party a hard shove as he passed.

The fellowship resumed their way up the weathered heights of Caradhras. A smile appeared on a certain ranger's face and he bent down, swiftly scooping something off of the ground before straightening and glancing at the nimble-footed elf ahead of him.

Thud.

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**(1) Refers to my other story, In Imladris. The chapter has not been posted as of yet but is well on its way to completion. **

**Soooo, that's it! Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! For the followers of my other story "In Imladris" (I love product placement, don't you?), the next chapter's nearly done and will be up soon along with reviewer responses. Thanks for reading and please, please, please review**


	2. The Snowball Effect

**Disclaimer: Sadly, regretfully and unfortunately, I do not own Lord of the Rings. It is all the wonderful work of Tolkien.**

**Additional disclaimer: Some lines are taken almost exactly from the film "Return of the King". Those lines (marked by 1, 2, 3) are Newline's and Peter Jackson & co's, not mine. No disrespect is intended by their use.**

**Summary: Sequel to "Of Men, Elves and Snowballs." After the quest, a certain elf decides that it is time to seek retribution over the matter of a few snowballs.**

**I never originally intended for there to be a sequel to "Of Men, Elves and Snowballs, but thanks to the suggestion of one of you wonderful reviewers (thank you Lynx Yamato) here it is! Enjoy!**

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**The Snowball Effect**

It was a cloud-covered sky which rested over the chief city of the kingdom of Gondor. The white tower of Ecthelion rose high, seeming to blend into the iron-grey mists as icy winds raced through each level of the city, biting and snatching at those citizens who dared venture out into the winter cold.

In the topmost courtyard of the stone citadel, three figures walked amid the heavily layered snow. Two were rugged up against the bitter cold, clad in thick fur-lined coats, warm scarves and heavy boots. The third figure on the other hand, who walked a few yards ahead of his companions, wore only a thin tunic and leggings. A light cloak flowed from underneath the long blonde hair partly restrained against the furious winds by a series of fine braids.

A plaintive voice echoed over the courtyard, in the centre of which stood a white tree in full bloom despite the chill of the winter months. "May I ask again why you felt the need to drag the two of us out of my nice, warm palace?" grumbled the king of the combined kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.

A mischievous laugh which rang merrily on the flurries of wind that darted furiously about the courtyard was the only answer.

"Let the crazy elf have his way," muttered the man's companion, a dwarf with a flaming red beard who walked beside the king, hands folded into his armpits as he stomped through the thick snow. "You know as well as I do that he'll never let us rest until he gets what he wants."

"Aye, I know," the man replied. "But I fail to see what point there is to dragging us out into the freezing cold when we could still be in our warm, comfortable beds!" The man's tone was heated as he answered his short companion. Indeed, he thought with annoyance, his tone seemed to be the only thing that _was_ warm.

The dwarf chuckled deep in his chest as he navigated around a particularly deep pile of snow. "And I suppose it would not hurt matters if that warm, comfortable bed contained a certain elf queen?" he enquired.

Aragorn grinned at his friend through his full beard. "Nay, it would not. Indeed, I have reason to believe that it would improve them significantly."

By this time, the lithe figure ahead of them was waiting impatiently for his companions to catch up. "Come!" called a melodious voice, and its owner ran lightly over the snow towards the two friends. Upon reaching them he tugged vigorously on the man's heavy velvet sleeve. "You must see this!"

Aragorn and Gimli looked at each other in exasperation, but nevertheless continued to follow the prince of Mirkwood as he moved light-footed over the snow towards the edge of the high-walled precipice which overlooked the city of Minas Tirith.

"I still do not think it is fair that elves can walk on snow," muttered Aragorn as he tramped heavily through the deep substance which lay inches thick over the stone terrace. He watched the elf ahead of him step lightly over an exceptionally thick snowdrift which had built up due to the furious winds, but was then forced to plough through it himself, half-staggering as he valiantly attempted to keep his footing. The dwarf behind him fared little better, his shorter legs making it even harder for him to traverse the snowy field. Aragorn was certain that he could see a smile tugging at the elf's fair face as he turned to watch his companions struggle onwards through the snow. "Nay," the man growled under his breath. "It is definitely not fair."

Finally, the three companions reached the apex of the courtyard and Aragorn stopped short, stunned at the sight before his eyes. The kingdom of Gondor lay below him, cloaked in white against a steel-grey sky. The Fields of Pelennor, the site of the great battle of the War of the Ring, stretched far into the distance, the smooth white plain broken only by a single streak of silver which marked the river Anduin. The city of Osgiliath floated on the crystal-like substance, its stone walls, which seemed to have grown out of the deep snow, covered in a white blanket. Beyond the plains rested the mountains which bordered the realm of Mordor. However, the shadowed cloud which had smothered the land as the power of Sauron had spread, had been replaced by a stretch of blue sky as the clouds separated to reveal a weak winter sun. Wisps of white mist lit by a pearly golden border hovered gently over the distant peaks as Aragorn took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, drinking in the fresh winter morning as best he could.

It was many minutes before he turned from the sight, and when he reluctantly did so, it was to find his two closest friends smiling at him, amused at the king's reaction, yet also sharing his joy in the renewal of the realm of Man. Aragorn moved forward to clasp a hand on Legolas' slender shoulder as he had done once before as the newly crowned king of Gondor. "_Hannon le_, _mellon nin_," he said quietly, and the elf nodded, a gentle smile lighting his fair face.

Feeling the cold begin to creep through his many layers of clothing, Aragorn turned to his companions. "Come, my friends, it is time we returned to the warmth," he said, and began to walk towards the buildings at the opposite end of the courtyard, eagerly anticipating the thought of a warm fire and an even warmer bed.

Thud.

Aragorn stopped in his tracks and reached up a gloved hand to the back of his head where it came into contact with something cold. He brought his hand down before his face and stared at the snow which coated his fingers.

Thud.

Slowly, the ex-ranger turned around and carefully examined each of people who stood in the courtyard with him, searching for the perpetrator of the terrible crime. Four Guards of the Citadel stood at attention around the White Tree which stood at the heart of the courtyard, tall helmets crowned with the white feathers of sea birds glinting in the pale sunlight. Looking closely, he thought he saw the barest hint of a smile flicker across the face of the one nearest him. However, the guards would surely not dare to snowball their king.

Gimli stood to his left, legs hidden from view by the deep snow which reached halfway up his calves, yet Aragorn doubted that he was responsible. The dwarf was chuckling at him, yes, but the projectile had come from behind him, not from his left. Thus, if neither Gimli nor the Guards were responsible, that left only one person, or rather, one elf.

Thud.

Aragorn whipped round to face the happily smiling prince of Mirkwood who was standing only a few feet behind him, tossing his latest ball of snow back and forth between nimble hands. Aragorn growled low in his throat. The Valar-forsaken elf was not even _trying_ to hide it!

However, he managed to remain calm as he spoke to the being who claimed to be his friend. "Can you stop that please?" he asked evenly, quite proud of the way he managed to keep his voice low and his words polite.

"Stop what, _mellon nin_?" the prince of Mirkwood replied innocently.

"You know of what I speak." To Aragorn's irritation, his voice had been slightly louder that time.

The elf's fair face broke into a broad grin. "Is this what you are referring to?"

Thud.

"Legolas!"

Gimli's chuckle turned into full-fledged laughter as the king of Gondor strode angrily towards his elven friend, his richly embroidered garments covered in the freezing white powder. Yet the lithe elf danced effortlessly out of reach, each light footstep he made seeming to mock the heavier man who sunk deeply into the snow at every stride. Seeing that his friend was clearly quite prepared to lead him on a merry chase about the courtyard, Aragorn halted where he stood and glared at the elf silently.

Thud.

"By the Valar, Legolas!" the man exploded, "If you do not stop that-"

"I will stop when you admit it," the elf interrupted.

"Admit what?"

Thud.

"That?"

"That."

"It has been almost three years!"

"And your point is?"

Aragorn stared dumbfounded at his best friend. "My point is that it has been almost three years!"

Legolas merely looked back at the ex-ranger, a determined glint in his steely blue eyes which Aragorn recognised only too well.

"Very well," he muttered reluctantly, knowing that the elf would not rest until he had achieved his aim. He turned to the dwarf, who had been watching the events unfolding above the city of Minas Tirith with a broad grin on his face, half-hidden beneath his beard. "Gimli, there is something which Imust tell you. It was not Legolas who threw that snowball at you whilst we climbed Caradhras."

Gimli's mouth opened slightly as he stared at the king of Gondor. "It was _not_ the Elf?" he questioned, unsure that he had heard the man correctly.

"Nay," confirmed Aragorn. "It was Sam."

"Aragorn!" A clump of snow fell from the branches of the White Tree as the elf's frustrated shout echoed loudly over the courtyard. The prince of Mirkwood strode quickly over the snow until he reached the esteemed king of Gondor. He extended one elegant finger and prodded the man in the chest with each word he uttered, pushing the man back a little with every jab.

"It."

Poke.

"Was."

Poke.

"You!"

"What was me, _mellon nin?_"

"Ai!"

The elf whirled around and stomped away towards the Citadel, that is, as much as an elf could stomp whilst moving lightly over the gathered snow.

Aragorn just stood there with a decidedly evil smirk building upon his face as he watched his friend make his way angrily towards the stone building. However, the expression soon sobered as he became aware of the short, blocky figure who had moved to confront him.

"What exactly did he mean 'It was you?'" a gruff voice demanded.

"Hmmm? Oh, it meant nothing."

"It sounded as though the Elf thinks that you threw that snowball at me on Caradhras."

"As you said yourself at the time, what reason would I have to do that?"

Bushy eyebrows lowered as Gimli eyed the man beside him suspiciously.

"So, the Elf was just being his usual flighty self then, was he?"

"Aye, it is nothing to concern yourself over."

"Ah." The dwarf nodded, apparently satisfied, and Aragorn allowed a soft sigh of relief to escape him. The two companions began to make their way after the lithe figure nearing the citadel.

Just before he reached the opposite end of the terrace however, Legolas found himself knocked off his feet as a couple of small figures, only half the size of normal men, barrelled into him, tackling him to the ground.

"Hello, Legolas!" a cheerful voice greeted him.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Legolas stared in surprise at the two curly heads attached to the bodies currently residing heavily on his stomach.

"Merry? Pippin?"

"Why, it's the wee hobbits!" Gimli exclaimed loudly and hurried as best he could through the snow to the group who had converged upon the unfortunate prince of Mirkwood, now trapped securely beneath four small bodies.

Striding over, Aragorn reached out a strong arm and pulled Legolas to his feet, shedding hobbits left and right. "It is good to see you, my friends," he said with a broad smile.

"Strider!" four voices cried happily. Like Legolas, the man was promptly bowled over by the hobbit cousins, Merry and Pippin.

"What are you lads doing here?" questioned Gimli, beaming as he clapped a large hand on Sam's back, causing the gardener to stumble forward slightly with the enthusiasm behind the gesture.

There was a slight pause as the four hobbits looked at each other.

"Well," began Merry finally, climbing off of Aragorn, "We were in the neighbourhood you see…"

"So we thought we'd just pop in for a visit!" continued Pippin, breaking into his cousin's rather hesitant explanation.

"I see," said Aragorn disbelievingly as he brushed down his tunic, having regained his feet with the help of Legolas.

"What?" demanded Merry at the man's unconvinced tone. "Don't you believe us?"

Legolas looked at Aragorn, then back at the hobbits. "Your pardon, master _periannath_," he said. "But I am afraid to say that we do not."

"Why?" asked Pippin indignantly.

"It is a great thing to travel all the way from the Shire to Minas Tirith in the heart of winter, Pippin," said Aragorn with a smile. "Even for those bound together by fellowship as we are."

"I thought it was rather a good excuse if you ask me," Pippin muttered under his breath. Merry nudged him hard and the young hobbit reddened. "I mean, but it's the truth! Isn't it, Frodo?"

A smile lit the delicate face of the dark-haired hobbit. "I think that we have been caught out," he said regretfully and he turned to Aragorn. "The truth is, Strider, that Arwen and Faramir thought that you had been working too hard, so they asked us to come out here to cheer you up."

"Yes," said Merry. "But when we finally arrive, we find you having a good old snowball fight with Legolas here!"

"It was not a snowball fight," stated Aragorn. "It was an unprovoked attack-" Legolas uttered a most un-elf like snort- "on the sovereign of Gondor and thus deserves due punishment!" He looked to Frodo and Sam gravely. "Gentlemen, if you would be so kind as to assist me in this task…"

The ex-ranger suddenly bent down and, scooping up a handful of snow, pelted it at the unprepared elf before ducking behind a handy snowdrift. Quickly guessing the man's intentions, Frodo and Sam hastened to follow him, and within seconds a barrage of snowballs was sailing out from behind the white wall, each of them intended for the prince of Mirkwood. Yet Legolas swiftly dived out of the line of fire, seeking shelter behind another snowdrift just over a dozen feet from the first. As chance would have it, a number of the missiles found their targets in a couple of innocent hobbit bystanders. Merry and Pippin looked at each other, and without a word, simultaneously scurried behind Legolas' shelter and began to return fire.

Gimli, who had managed to remain untouched by snowballs from either side, looked from one group to the other before trudging over to Aragorn, Frodo and Sam.

"Gimli!" Legolas' face appeared above the wall of snow looking somewhat betrayed.

"Sorry, lad," Gimli shouted through cupped hands. "But he is the king!" Finding that the hobbits and Aragorn were of far better aim than he, the dwarf quickly busied himself in reinforcing his team's snowdrift.

"Never trust a dwarf," Legolas muttered to himself as he bent back down behind his temporary stronghold. His next few snowballs impacted solidly with the back of the traitorous being, who let out a muffled bellow each time one struck him with more force than was probably necessary for a friendly snowball fight.

For some minutes the only sound to be heard was that of snowballs whizzing through the air, interspersed with numerous grunts and thuds as the missiles connected with their targets. However, the quiet was soon broken by a high hobbit voice.

"Pippin!" A head of dark curls appeared over the top of the wall of snow. "I thought you were in the service of Gondor?" called Frodo.

"I am!" the younger hobbit shouted back. "Or at least, I was."

Aragorn's slightly muffled voice sounded from behind his fortress. "Then as your king and liege, I order you to join us or risk being arrested for treason!"

With an apologetic look at Legolas, Pippin took a deep breath, and, taking advantage of a lull in the fighting, darted out from behind his wall, scurrying quickly through the snow until he had reached Aragorn, Gimli, Frodo and Sam.

Battle resumed, and, despite being greatly out-numbered, Legolas and Merry gave as well as they received. That was, until Pippin's head popped up.

"Here, Merry!" he shouted. "Isn't Rohan an ally of Gondor?"

"Yes!" the hobbit replied.

"Then as a Knight of the Riddermark, shouldn't you be on our side?"

The snowballs halted briefly and Merry's head appeared, realisation dawning on his features. "You're right, Pip!" he shouted, and proceeded to duck out from the side of the fortress of snow to hurriedly make his way over to opposing side.

Left alone behind his snowdrift, Legolas rose to his feet in fury. "That's not fair!" he called out angrily, glaring at the top of Aragorn's head which could just be seen above the snowdrift.

Thud.

The prince of Mirkwood hurriedly crouched behind his makeshift shelter again, muttering to himself about the traitorous nature of everyone who was not an elf.

"Begging your pardon, Legolas?" the quiet voice of Sam called. "But aren't both Ithilien and the forests of your father allied to Gondor?"

"An excellent point, Sam," agreed Aragorn. "So, Elf, unless you want to be tried for treason, I would surrender now!"

"Eryn Lasgalen will never surrender to the likes of you, nor will Ithilien!" the elf declared resolutely. "No matter how many snowballs you throw against them!"

Behind the fortress Sam began to chuckle helplessly, the very absurdity of the situation suddenly striking him. Frodo looked at his friend who had followed him to Mordor and back, and he too began to laugh, quickly joined by Merry and Pippin. Aragorn and Gimli on the other hand, continued to rain snowballs at the solitary elf.

"Come, my friends," the ex-ranger urged. "We cannot give up now. Victory is at hand!"

"Us hobbits don't give up, Strider" said Merry, looking offended at the very thought.

The king of Gondor nodded. "I do not doubt that, Merry," he replied. "For the proof is here before my eyes. However," he continued, and the ranger's voice, which had sobered momentarily, lightened once more. "I have been trying to best this elf for a good part of my life and I will not let an opportunity such as this escape me."

"And what exactly do you prepose we do?" questioned Gimli. "The Elf is not one to accept defeat easily." His brow furrowed. "Though he ought to be used to it by now," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" inquired Pippin, his sharp ears having caught the dwarf's last words. "He beat you at Pelennor Fields, didn't he."

"No he didn't! The blasted Elf-"

"Yes, he did," interrupted Merry. "He brought down an Oliphaunt, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, but it only counted as one," the dwarf argued, but Sam was shaking his head.

"Now that just doesn't seem right," he said. "Oliphaunts are a lot bigger than your common orc."

"How do you know?" asked Pippin.

"We saw one! Me and Mr. Frodo here, I mean. Didn't we, Frodo?"

The dark-haired hobbit nodded.

"You never told us!" Pippin protested indignantly.

"Yes, he did," argued Merry. "That night in the Green Dragon. You remember!" he urged, when Pippin stared blankly at him.

"Frodo?"

The dark-haired hobbit nodded.

"See! He did tell us!"

"Gentlemen-" Aragorn interjected, but the hobbits ignored him.

"Anyway, my point is, Pippin, that bringing down an Oliphaunt surely counts for more than killing an orc."

"Now just a minute here, lads!" Gimli blustered. "The Elf may have brought down an Oliphant, but I single-handedly defended the gates of the Hornburg!"

"Single-handedly?" Aragorn echoed, but his companions ignored him.

"But we're talking about Pelennor, Gimli," argued Pippin. "Not Helm's Deep. Right, Frodo?"

The dark-haired hobbit nodded.

"It's the same war!" blustered Gimli.

"As much as I appreciate your defence of my victory," interrupted an amused voice, "I believe we were in the middle of a snowball fight?"

The group looked up to see the prince of Mirkwood standing over them, holding a snowball firmly in each hand. Within an instant they were subject to an onslaught of the freezing missiles, the elf apparently having used their debate as an opportunity to build up a sizable store of them.

"Get him!" ordered Aragorn, and four hobbits descended upon the hapless prince of Mirkwood, yelling as they knocked the elf's feet out from under him and proceeded to snowball him mercilessly.

Eventually, Legolas managed to extract himself from the pile of tangled limbs and hairy feet, and he leapt to his feet and up on top of the nearby snowdrift.

"Master hobbits!" he cried, and his voice rang out clearly in the crystal-cold air. "Why do you continue to suffer such subjugation under the rule of King Elessar?"

"What do you mean _subjugation_?" said Aragorn defensively. "The Shire is freely governed by the hobbits themselves! It is only in name that it is part of Gondor!"

"Yet they fight on your order?" exclaimed the elf. "To me that does not sound like freedom!" He looked down at the four hobbits, who were staring up at him somewhat dubiously. "Come, master _periannath_; do not let this chance to fight for your freedom pass you by!"

Gimli grunted. "The Elf is even crazier than I thought," he commented to Aragorn and the man snorted in laughter.

"See how he mocks your attempt to escape the shackles of enslavement!" Legolas cried, gesturing at Aragorn, who immediately tried to stifle his mirth. "My friends, we must fight!"

"But he has an army, Legolas!" Pippin protested. "You saw it!"

"He was in it," remarked Aragorn to Gimli.

"A day may come when the courage of Hobbits fails," proclaimed the elf. "When you forsake your friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day." (1)

Aragorn looked disbelievingly at the elf prince who stood upon the high snowdrift, cloak streaming behind him in the strong wind, hair gleaming in the pale winter sun.

"An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Hobbits comes crashing down," the elf continued. "But it is not this day!" (2)

"I do not believe this," muttered Aragorn, shaking his head.

"This day we fight!" cried Legolas. "By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you, stand, hobbits of the Shire!" (3)

The four hobbits exchanged glances.

"For the Shire!" Merry yelled, and as one the small creatures turned and attacked the ex-ranger who was quickly buried underneath a pile of snow. Legolas took a seat cross-legged on the fortress-turned-podium of snow and proceeded to watch with unconcealed amusement as the king of Gondor suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of four small hobbits. After some minutes, Gimli trudged over to where the elf sat and leant back against the snowdrift. When the one-sided battle showed no sign of abating anytime soon, he drew out a long-stemmed pipe, but hurriedly stowed it within his heavy coat once more at a sharp look from the elf.

Finally the attack ceased and four hobbits and an ex-ranger collapsed on the snowy ground, panting.

"You know," Pippin puffed, "This reminds me of that time on Caradhras, when Strider kept throwing snowballs at Legolas."

The king of Gondor froze where he lay, and his eyes shifted nervously between Legolas and Gimli, the latter of whom had a strange expression on his face.

"I remember that!" said Merry. "Then he threw one at Gimli and pretended that Legolas had done it!"

Aragorn groaned.

"What!" Gimli pushed himself upright with a roar and advanced on Aragorn furiously, sending scuffs of snow flying up from the ground with every step. "You mean it was you all along?"

"Peace, Gimli," Aragorn entreated, hands raised in supplication, "No harm came of it!"

"But Gimli and Legolas came to blows, didn't they?" asked Sam, chewing his lip. "If you ask me, that sounds like harm."

Pippin, Merry and Frodo nodded their agreement.

The dwarf continued to rant at the nervous-looking king of Gondor. "And then today! Today you denied it! When I asked you to your face, you denied ever having snowballed me!"

"To be fair, Gimli," the man interrupted. "You never actually asked me whether I had done it, you just said that it sounded as though Legolas thought I did."

The dwarf stared at him. "Why you…!" he blustered. "You…Arghhh!"

"What is it you are trying to say, Gimli?" Aragorn asked in curious innocence, but Legolas, who was watching from his seat on the snowdrift, noticed that the man had started to edge away cautiously.

"Never trust a Man!" Gimli bellowed.

The king of Gondor turned tail and ran for the Citadel, calling to his guards to defend him. Yet the tall figures surrounding the White Tree seemed to take the small matter of their king being chased by an angry dwarf and a group of chuckling hobbits as a matter of course, and did not stir from their assigned positions.

Unhurriedly, the prince of Mirkwood rose from his seat and followed behind the rest of the fellowship, a pleased smile gracing his fair features as he walked over the snow.

----------------

Silence reigned on the uppermost tier of Minas Tirith, a sharp contrast to the earlier clamour. Four Guards of the Citadel stood at attention around the White Tree of Gondor. A smile appeared on the face of one. He bent down swiftly and scooped up a handful of snow before glancing at the man to his left.

Thud.

-----------------

**_hannon le­_- thank you**

**_mellon nin_- my friend**

**_periannath­_- hobbits**

**That's all from me for now folks, I really hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you can, I'd love to hear whether people liked it! Thanks for reading!**


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